But by now William had disappeared. The soldiers continued arguing in subdued voices, when they were interrupted by the approach of a slim gentleman in furs and velvet, who came with an easy, graceful step along the arcade. Both the men knew him; he was the great Earl of Sunderland.
His quick eye noticed two soldiers in place of one, and that they were talking. His suspicions, that never lay very deep, were instantly roused, he clapt his hand to his sword and paused.
The man who had followed the King found courage to speak.
"My lord, I humbly ask the pardon of your lordship, but His Majesty hath gone out unattended in this foul weather, and I was bold enough to follow His Majesty, thinking of all the late plots."
"Who are you?" demanded Sunderland.
"May it please your lordship, the sentry at the foot of the state staircase."
My lord narrowed his eyes on the man.
"You were on guard once outside Whitehall on the day the bishops were acquitted. I spoke to you—'God and the King'—you recall, fellow?"
The soldier was silent with astonishment at the memory of my lord; for himself, he recollected very well, but it was marvellous that a great nobleman should remember such an incident during so many years.
Sunderland gave him no time to speak.